The Halo Effect (Cupid Chronicles) (4 page)

But, man, he was up for Sweet Cheeks.

He shook his head and accelerated with a vengeance to thrust her to the backburner. The cold of the wind stung his cheeks as he flew through a green light and headed for his destination.

Forty minutes later he arrived at the abandoned neighborhood park with the neglected, old basketball hoop. It sat situated behind a basically forgotten subdivision that had been all but lost to the economic crisis; a lone park light illuminated the area with an eerie glow. Even the graffiti was old since the hoodlums didn’t even bother with the place anymore. Noble had found it on one of his stress-relief rides purely by accident and had been coming ever since. He enjoyed the pure, unadulterated solitude.

He parked his bike and hopped off, shedding his jacket and pulling off his protective glasses. He ran his fingers through his ponytail, working out the tangles the wind had caused.

He moved to sit on the solitary, creaky park bench. He reached beneath it, stretching into the dense overgrowth of bushes and weeds. There, right where he’d left it, was the old basketball. He pulled it out and picked it up. Time for more therapy.

Without another thought, he jogged to the deserted court and began to run and dribble and dunk the ball with a physicality he couldn’t get from riding his bike. The steady drone of the bouncing ball reverberated loudly off the cement and the metal of the chain hoop clanked its lone applause as he swished in basket after basket. He worked until sweat was pouring down his face.

Finally, he could ignore it no more.

He strode back to the bench, tucked the ball back in its hiding place, and pulled his grandfather’s letter from his back pocket. He studied the handwriting and the postmark as his gut churned.

He took a deep breath and ripped open the envelope. He yanked out the elementary school style lined paper with his heart in this throat.

Baptiste . . .

Noble studied and studied the stupid letter for several minutes as random words floated in front of his tear-filled eyes.

Dreams.

Forgiveness.

Angels.

He continued to study it until his head hurt. Until his heart hurt. Then he crumpled it into a ball and threw it into the nearest trashcan.

“Sorry,” he said as he rose and headed for his bike. “I don’t believe in angels.”

Chapter 5

Braelyn all but oozed out to her car in the school parking lot after the colossally bad day from hell. Brittany had called in sick so she’d been on her own with the kids today and they’d all been particularly rowdy. Daisy’s feeding tube had clogged again and she’d thrown up on herself. Jeremy’s mom forgot to pack the sacred Oreos in his lunch so he’d rebelled and stuck raisins up his nose.

She could only thank God this day was over.

As she walked, she realized her new shoes had caused a blister and one of her fingers had a hangnail. “Damn it!” she wailed, wanting to cry as she unlocked her door and tossed her purse inside. She’d skipped lunch, other than a few saltine crackers, so she was also nursing the beginnings of what was sure to be a magnificent headache.

She slid inside and turned the key in the ignition. Nothing. Really? Could her day get any worse? She pumped the gas pedal a couple times and tried again. The engine tried to catch but sputtered helplessly. She laid her head on the steering wheel as tears began to course down her cheeks.

She glanced up when her cell phone rang. She reached for it though she knew there was no way it could be good after the day she’d had.

“Hello?” she croaked.

“Miss Campbell?”

“Yes.”

“This is Mrs. Baker, Tristan’s counselor. I’m calling because Tristan was sent to my office for being disrespectful to one of his teachers.”

Braelyn’s heart sank. This was a new low. “I see,” she managed.

“We’re very concerned, as you can imagine. Especially since he was just suspended for fighting and today was his first day back.”

Fresh tears washed silently down her face as she listened to the counselor. She wondered what her son’s punishment would be this time. “I am, too. I’m very sorry. I’ll speak to him tonight.”

“But, since the teacher has accepted your son’s apology, we’re going to let the incident go.
This time
,” Mrs. Baker emphasized. “But we can’t let disrespectful behavior become a habit. I’m sure you understand.”

Braelyn sat up. “Yes, of course. I’ll take care of it.” Somehow.

She thanked the counselor for her time and hung up, praying for some kind of miracle for her son. She hadn’t gone to all these lengths to move him thousands of miles from his father and Julian’s threats to start a new life for the both of them for her own health. She would never have done it if she’d have felt she had any other options to keep him safe. But, man, she could use a little help.

“God, help me,” she urged, sending up a serious S.O.S.

She wiped her hands on her pant legs, which she now noticed had small stains left over from Daisy’s vomit, and tried to start the car again.
Please, please, please.
Someone must’ve heard her prayers, because the engine turned over with a tentative roll before humming to life. She heaved a sigh of relief. Maybe her day was turning around.

As she slowly drove out of the parking space and drove out of the lot toward home, she wondered what would be the best way to approach Tristan. Should she play the stern, disciplinarian and ground him until he was eighteen? Would the
smother him with love
tactic work better? Lord knew the kid was just acting out because of the mess with his father. She’d worked very hard to hide the threats with Julian. No need to frighten him.

But she couldn’t just let it slide. As much as she wanted to crawl in a hole and hide, she had to be strong. She worked hard at being a good mother—at needing no one but herself. But, as much as she hated to admit it, sometimes it would be nice to have someone who could pick up the weight and carry the load for a little while. Just a little while. Maybe long enough for a bubble bath? The thought made her smile in spite of her day as she pulled onto her street.

Her eyes automatically drifted toward the next-door neighbor’s house as she approached. He was mysterious, at best. Scary, at worst. He came and went at the strangest hours, kept totally to himself, and shut his house up like a dark and silent tomb. She wasn’t sure what to make of him. He could be anything from a reclusive hottie to a sociopathic serial killer.

Then, as if on cue for a horror movie, her stupid car began to make a chugging noise as the motor started to die. The whole vehicle jerked beneath her as it groaned to a halting stop directly in front of the neighbor’s house, blocking his entire driveway.

“Great. Just great!” She twisted the key to the ‘off’ position, gave it a few seconds, then tried to turn the motor again. Nothing. Dead as a doornail.

She glanced over at the big, black monster of a truck that was still in his driveway. He obviously hadn’t gone off to wherever it was that he went to most nights.
Shit.
She tried the key again as her palms began to sweat and her headache began to pound in earnest. Still nothing. Maybe she could push the dumb thing out of the way. She hopped out and rounded to the rear of the SUV. She pressed her bottom to the bumper and gave a mighty heave using all of her strength. It rolled about an inch, but as soon as she let go, it rolled right back. She took a breath and shoved again. This time it didn’t budge.

To her left a door slammed. She turned, already dreading who she would see. It took him a moment to realize that she was there, plastered up against the back of her much smaller vehicle as he made his way to his gargantuan truck. His steps slowed as he spotted her, surprise clear in his obsidian eyes.

Her heart began to race as he changed course and headed toward her. God, she’d forgotten how gorgeous he was. And dangerous. His hair was down tonight, black as midnight and well past his shoulders. Much longer than her chin-length stacked bob. He was dressed in all black from the tips of his biker boots to his button-down shirt, which he had rolled to his elbows.

“Problem?” he asked, his voice low as he eyed her dead vehicle.

She swallowed as she peered up into his face. He already towered over her, but from their positions with her on the street and him up on the curb, she felt truly overwhelmed. The streetlight cast an eerie shadow in the twilight, making him appear even more menacing as he studied her eyes.

She nodded. “My car died.” She stepped away from the bumper. “It’s been acting up today. I’m sorry I’m in your way.”

The way his eyes took her in—almost as if he knew her intimately—made heat begin to rise in her body and she was thankful for the cloaking semi-darkness. Then, in one smooth, subtle movement, he checked the large, leather-banded watch on his wrist.

“I’ve got to get to work,” he said. “Get in.”

“Excuse me?”

He tilted his head toward her car. “Get in and steer.” He stepped off the curb until he was mere inches from her. He looked down into her eyes and she could feel the heat radiating off of him. “I’ll push.”

She sucked in a breath and nodded. “Okay.” She slid out from between him and the car and ducked into the driver’s seat. She shifted to neutral, gripped the steering wheel with shaking hands, and peeked up into the rearview mirror. She caught a glimpse of him as he adjusted his grip and prepared to push her and all she could think about was how he smelled like he’d just showered.

“Ready?” he called.

“Ready.”

“One. Two. Three,” he counted off before he gave the car a giant shove like it was nothing out of the ordinary for him. Slowly, she began moving until he had her pushed out of the way of his driveway.

She applied the brakes once he got her in front of her house and jumped out. “Thank you so much!” she called out, but he was already halfway back to his truck. She ran to catch up to him. “Wait!”

He turned around and she was caught off guard with the instant fantasy of running her fingers through that mane of hair. She really needed to get a grip. She smiled at him. “Wait. I’m sorry. I don’t want to make you late for work, but I just wanted to thank you. We haven’t met under the best of circumstances. Let me introduce myself officially.” She held out her hand. “I’m your grateful neighbor, Braelyn Campbell. And you’ve already met my son, Tristan.” She gave a small, nervous laugh remembering the night he’d come over to try and save her from a would-be burglar. She chose to ignore the near miss in the driveway.

He stood there for a moment and she felt like a fool. It wasn’t like she was asking him on a date or anything. Why wouldn’t he take her hand? Finally, he accepted her handshake, his huge, warm hand engulfing hers. Tingles raced up and down her body at the contact.

His black eyes were like pools of liquid mystery as he studied her. Finally, he spoke. “I’m Noble. Noble Blackfeather.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Mr. Noble Blackfeather. Have a good night at work.”

He nodded once before climbing up into his truck. She watched him drive away and wondered what had just happened, because she was sure
something
had.

Michael sat next to Ariel in the Old Tabernacle Church basement at their AA, or Angels Anonymous, meeting and grinned like a fool. This was a day that Father had made and, quite simply, he was thrilled to be on Love Detail. Of all the tasks angels could be given—Prophecy, Messaging, Crossovers, Healing, Travel Mercies . . . the list was endless—Love was, by far, the most rewarding. It was timeless.

Their fearless leader, Gabriel, took his place at the podium once the doors had been sealed with light to begin their weekly meeting. His ancient golden eyes scanned the crowd of his brother and sister angels. “Good evening, everyone,” he said with the soothing melodious tone that always calmed the room. “Let’s get started.” He consulted the long sheet of notes before him. “Uriel.” He looked up to the thin angel with long, blond hair and wire-rimmed glasses. “How are your humans faring? Jennifer and Alan? I expect you’ve learned some lessons from your first assignment?” Gabriel smiled kindly.

Uriel shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He was the newbie, other than Ariel, and he was still learning the ropes fresh from Crossovers. His last assignment had only succeeded out of dumb luck really, because his humans had quit speaking to him over his behavior. But, he’d been trying to do the right thing. Just not very well, unfortunately. Oh, well. Love and learn, as the angels say.

“Uriel?” Gabriel prompted.

Uriel pushed his glasses up on his nose. “Uh, yes. Well, it is going better this time.” He gave a nervous laugh. “Jennifer and Alan are slowly realizing they have feelings for each other that are stronger than friendship. Fencing club has been good for them and Jennifer is learning to overlook the age difference. Things are shaping up.”

“Wonderful!” Gabriel beamed.

They moved around the room as everyone shared their news of the week. First meetings, dates, engagements, marriages, babies. Even a couple break-ups. In those cases, new strategies had to be formulated to reenergize Father’s plan. Love must prevail, after all.

Finally, Gabriel turned to Michael. “How about you?” He glanced down to his notes. “Noble and Braelyn? How is their match coming along?”

Everyone turned to him expectantly and he realized that he’d suddenly become the new unofficial mentor of the group. Ever since the golden boy, Rafael, had left, Michael’s game had stepped up a notch. He’d made a nearly impossible match. He’d handled
two
matches at once—something never before done in the history of Love Detail. And now he was being trusted to remain in the same vessel near his last assignment for his next mission, with an intern no less.

He loved what he did. He worked hard at it. He wanted to be the best angel he could be.

But as he glanced up into Gabriel’s glowing eyes, he saw something . . . different. It filled him with dread and awe at the same time. Father always said to whom much was given, much was expected. And he’d been given much responsibility. Was it possible that he was being prepped to take on even more duties? Maybe even to become the next leader of the group? And if so, where was Gabriel going? And how did he feel about that . . .?

Gabriel arched his brows in question.

Michael swallowed. “Noble and Braelyn are going to be my most difficult assignment to date.” He wiggled in his chair. “I have it on good authority that they have already met.”
If good authority meant listening to Noble gripe about nearly running the kid over with his bike and the “pint-sized mama” hissing like a stepped-on rattler.

“Given both of my people’s history,” he continued, “I feel the need to take it carefully. Especially since there is a child involved.”

Gabriel nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, I recall.”

Michael felt a renewed sense of determination surge through him. He looked at Uriel—at all his fellow angels. He would be the leader they expected him to be and not go back to his days of failure and self-doubt if it plucked every feather from his wings.

He met Ariel’s gaze, who offered him a bright smile. He felt his enthusiasm building as he hurried on. “So, Ariel and I have devised a plan we feel is fail-proof.”